Sushi Run
by zosimos
Summary: Sam and Dean fight over food. Again.


Sam could not afford to be picky growing up the way he did. He ate almost everything that came across his plate, knowing that Dean would scarf down his food too if it wasn't already gone. On top of that, his father would not brook arguments about food. You ate what was in front of you, and if you didn't you went hungry. Plain and simple.

College was a different matter. For the first time Sam got to pick the dining establishments. He wasn't stuck eating at greasy spoons and Mom & Pop diners, or restricted to a menu of cheeseburgers and hash browns. New friends from all over the country broadened his culinary experiences a hundredfold.

And then, of course, things changed again. Sam found himself on the road with his brother, back fighting the good fight against the forces of darkness. Sam tried to eat different things but Dean had to have a cast-iron stomach with the sheer amount of bacon grease he consumed on a daily basis.

Dean was, in fact, eating his way through possibly his third burger that day when Sam returned to the motel room. They had grabbed a room right off the main bypass of the college town, so there was plenty of restaurants within walking distance. Plenty of bars, too - but oddly enough Dean wasn't that interested in checking out the bar scene. Dean was currently seated in front of his computer, doing research. Since he had last crashed Sam's laptop despite about seventeen new layers of anti-virus protection, they now had separate computers. (Surprisingly, Sam had yet to have to scrub Dean's computer. He was mildly impressed at the software that had come bundled with it, because there was no way that Dean's self-restraint was keeping that thing clean.)

When Sam walked around his back he didn't quickly click out of anything, either; he was genuinely doing research. Sam was impressed.

"You're dripping grease all over your keyboard," Sam said, putting the chilled six-pack of beer down on the dresser.

Dean looked down at his laptop and dabbed at a grease spot with a napkin, then went back to reading his screen, mouth full. Sam put a bottle of beer down beside Dean's hand and sat down opposite him at the table, opening his own laptop. "Can't believe you're dodging the bar scene, you feel all right?"

"Work to do," Dean grunted. "There's only two days until the next full moon, and we've got to track down the pattern of deaths before then."

Sam nodded his head, setting down the plastic to-go tray he'd picked up at the tiny carry-out restaurant. Sam caught Dean looked up. "What the hell is that?"

"Dinner," Sam said, snapping the translucent cover off. Dean craned his neck to get a look at it, then rolled his eyes.

"Girly shit," he snorted, and used the bottle opener on his key chain to open the long-neck bottle of beer.

Sam looked down at his sushi and then over at Dean again. "Sushi isn't girly shit, Dean."

"Yeah, whatever lets you sleep at night princess."

"Dude, whatever. At least my food isn't stewing in its own grease." Sam took the cheap wooden chopsticks out of the bag and broke them easily. They came apart cleanly, leaving no wooden splinters behind. "I bet if you'd try it, you'd like it."

Dean was watching him still with interest. "There's no way in hell I'm putting raw fish in my mouth."

"Look, if you try a piece of sushi, I'll..." Sam cast around for something. "I'll give you five bucks."

"Twenty bucks," Dean said.

"Ten bucks, Dean. That's all I've got."

"Okay, fine." Dean grinned. Sam handed Dean a pair of wooden chopsticks and Dean stared at them incomprehensibly for a moment, then broke them apart. Or rather, he tried to, and failed. Sam snickered at the uneven chopsticks, then offered his tray to Dean. "Whichever piece you'd like."

"Easiest ten bucks I ever made," Dean said, and picked out a piece of sushi. The roll got halfway across the table before Dean dropped but, but he was quick and caught it with his hand before it hit the table.

Sam watched as Dean ate it. His brother made an interesting expression. Dean swallowed the roll and looked thoughtful. "Well?"

"Will you give me another ten bucks if I eat another piece?"

"What? No! This is my dinner, Dean."

"Ah, whatever. It wasn't inedible." Dean sat back in his chair. "Hurry up and finish that, anyway. We've got to get to the morgue before the coroner goes home at seven."

Sam rolled his eyes. "Sure, whatever." His phone buzzed as he was putting a piece of sushi in his mouth, so he put down his chopsticks and twisted in his chair to get the phone from where he'd dropped it on the bed.

When he turned around, Dean had his tray of sushi in hand and at least two rolls in his mouth. "Dean!"

"Mmff," Dean said through his mouthful.

Sam glared at his brother. "I'm keeping my ten dollars."

"Mmf."


End file.
